A Banana Commute

If you were to take the 8:15 AM bus in downtown Greenville, you’d likely be greeted by a sight that makes you question your coffee: a fully grown adult woman in a bright yellow banana costume, holding a travel mug and scrolling through her phone like nothing’s wrong.

Locals have dubbed her “Banana Lady.” Tourists stop and ask for selfies. Children squeal with delight. Dogs? Well, dogs don’t know what to make of her.

But she doesn’t flinch. Rain or shine, she’s a banana with a purpose.

Her real name? Linda Beaumont, age 34, customer service rep by day, fruit ambassador by…well, also day.

And no, it’s not a prank. Not a TikTok stunt. Not even performance art. It’s something so absurdly wholesome and weirdly touching, it might just restore your faith in humanity—or at least give you a good belly laugh.

The Origins of the Peel

The story begins, unsurprisingly, with a bet. Two years ago, Linda lost a game of Uno to her 6-year-old niece, Piper. The punishment: Wear a banana costume to work.

Linda, being the type of aunt who attends tea parties wearing tiaras and glitter beards, took it like a champ.

But when she showed up at her office—banana suit zipped up, dignity left behind in the car—the reaction was…unexpected.

“I thought I’d be sent home immediately,” she recalls. “Instead, my boss asked where he could buy one.”

The office had been going through a stressful product rollout, and Linda’s costume brought something rare and refreshing: laughter.

“I hadn’t seen the team laugh in weeks,” she says. “People came out of their cubicles just to watch me eat a banana while dressed as one. It was…oddly therapeutic.”

So she did it again. And again. And now, over 400 banana-suited commutes later, she’s a fixture of the community.

Banana Economics

Here’s where things get even weirder.

Linda didn’t just become a mascot for workplace positivity—she also became a low-key micro-influencer.

Brands sent her banana-themed merch. A smoothie company offered her a small sponsorship deal (she declined, citing “banana neutrality”). Her banana outfit Instagram account @AppealingLinda has over 70,000 followers.

But it’s not just about the clout.

Linda started donating proceeds from banana-related content (yes, that’s a thing now) to local food banks. Her reasoning?

“If I can make people laugh and feed a few families while doing it, then who cares if I look like produce on the subway?”

Public Reaction – A Fruitful Affair

Public reaction ranges from delighted to confused to deeply philosophical.

“There’s something oddly comforting about her,” says Bob, a local accountant. “Like, the world’s on fire, but hey—Banana Lady’s still catching the 8:15.”

Kids adore her. Teenagers ironically stan her. One elderly man reportedly knits her new fruit-themed accessories every month. She owns a banana cape. A banana cape.

Still, she has her detractors. One viral Facebook post claimed she was “part of a deep-state fruit cult,” which only boosted her visibility.

“I welcome conspiracy theories,” Linda jokes. “It’s free marketing.”

When Bananas Get Deep

It would be easy to dismiss this as a quirk gone too far. But Linda’s message has grown deeper over time.

“I started doing this as a joke,” she admits. “But it became a way to remind people that it’s okay to be ridiculous. Life is short, confusing, and often depressing. If I can make someone’s day 1% less horrible just by being a walking fruit, then sign me up.”

She says the costume gave her something unexpected: freedom. As someone who used to suffer from severe social anxiety, becoming a literal banana was paradoxically liberating.

“Nobody expects you to be normal when you’re a banana. You don’t have to pretend.”

The Work Situation

Linda’s workplace—an IT company with a suspiciously chill HR department—has fully embraced the madness.

She’s now head of the company’s “Employee Morale Committee” and hosts weekly “Fruit Fridays,” where employees dress as their favorite produce. One guy came as a pineapple for six weeks straight and no one knows why.

Her desk is covered in banana-themed knick-knacks: a peel-shaped stapler, yellow post-it notes, and a tiny banana hammock for her phone. Linda’s cubicle was recently named the “Most Appeeling Workspace.”

(Yes, the puns are constant. No, they do not apologize.)

A Global Peel

Thanks to viral videos and TikTok montages soundtracked by “Peanut Butter Jelly Time,” Linda has received invites from talk shows, podcasts, and even a Japanese game show.

Her response?

“I’m flattered, but I’ve got to catch the 8:15.”

She did eventually appear via Zoom on a Dutch morning program called “Fruit of the Day,” where she discussed banana mobility in urban spaces. It was…a thing.

Final Thoughts – The Peel We Need

In a world of stress, doomscrolling, and existential dread, the image of a woman proudly commuting in a banana costume has struck a bizarre, universal chord.

“I’m not trying to make a statement,” Linda says. “I’m just trying to make people smile. And maybe get better at walking down icy sidewalks in a slippery costume.”

Her story has been turned into a children’s book, “Be the Banana,” and a surprisingly catchy folk-pop song by a local band.

So if you’re ever in Greenville, and you spot a woman dressed like she belongs in a cereal ad from 1993, don’t panic.

That’s just Linda. She’s late for work. And the world is a little bit better because of it.

Did this story make you laugh, cry, or just question reality? Let us know in the comments below! And remember – life is bananas. You might as well enjoy the peel. 🍌